Los Angeles daily herald., 1887-07-03
A Number Of Cho ice Lots Still Left at
losing the easement, Goods will be

done"
And threw myself upon my couch.
The next morning my grandmother
greeted me as usual. Still, there was
no misunderstanding her fist glance.
She was studying my face to see if yes.
terday's folly had left any traces there.
No explanation being asked for, none
was given. One thing struck me, how
ever, and that was the absence from the
drawing.room table of the large bouquet
of wild flowers which my grandmother
so delighted to gather, and which al
ways stood there as an ornament. Was
it an accident, or did the kind old lady
wish to remove from my sight every
thing that might evoke painful re-.
membrance? Anyhow, day after day
flew by, and the name of Suzanne de
Stahl was never mentioned in the cha
teau. Besides, Time, the great healer,
brought the needed panacea.
Eight months later Mile. de Stahl be.
came the wife of the Count p, one of
our most renowned sportsmen, and took
up her residence in Paris About the
same time, wishing to devote myself
thenceferth to artistic pursuits, quit
the country with grandmother, and we
established ourselves in her nsion,
Rue de Lille.
To-day, my punishment, and, believe
me, it is no light one, for it has now
lasted more than three years, is to be
compelled to meet my formers fiances
at every turn. The ebb and flow of the
ft1n pf poriosnv I,fa oll
bringing us together. At the Bois, at
the play or at receptions. if do not
happen to meet her, I hear nothing
around me but words of praise, lauding
the matchless wit and elegance of the
beautiful Countess Per-hold! / came
near divulging her name! And each
time we meet, when l find myself in the
presence of those proud eyes, bright as
diamonds, but at the same time just as
cold, when l look at those lips so dis.
dainfully curved, when / hear that
naughty, domineering voice, when l
reflect on her cruel, cutting wit, then do
l say to myself: "Most assuredly, l
did right" But shortly after, her
glances seem so bewiching, her voice SO
fervid. her exquisitely nodded form SO
perfect, her carriage so graceful, that in
the presence of this rare treasure, lost
forever by mere whim, cannot hush
that other voice within me which, with
accents of remorse, or at least of regret,
sighs from the depth of my heart,
"Most assuredly, / did wrong"
And you, kind reader, what think
you?. L. Observation-Disclosures.
P. S.-Just as these lines are going to
press, I find the following paragraph in
a daily paper which makes q specially
Of publishing items of this kind:
''There was quite scandal yesterday
in grand drawipg.room of the Mon
ceau quarter. After few remarks,
about subject we will not mention,
addressed to her by Count P, the beau
tiful, but rather irrascible countess,
whose hot temper, until now, was only
known by few intimate friends, threw
her fan into her husbands face, and,
the same evening, she left his mansion"
For the past two hours / have been
walking up and down the boulevards.
The weather is gloomy and rainy, but
how pleasant life is! l feel as if my
bosom, no longer able to contain my Joy,
were about to burst. can't restrain
my feelings, and have an insane desire
to embrace everybody. l have just met
my old friend, Maurine d'Ermont,
happy husband, he. I question him
cleverly; he has not yet heard the news.
Well, it is best he should learn it from
some one else. We have been wander
ing about, arm in arm, for quite while.
The good fellow does not understand my
gayety, my pleased, laughing counten-
ance, and for third time he asks me in
puzzled manner:
"Old FRIEND" what in the devil makes
you rub your hands together in that
way?-[ Translation in Times Democrat.